Ten Years On
by KaraokeQueen88
Summary: Ten years to the day of his own death, Albus Dumbledore watches and reflects on those left behind.


_I will remember you  
Will you remember me? _

Sometimes, when I'm watching them, I wonder if they remember me clearly at all. After all, it's been almost a decade now. Ten years tomorrow if I remember correctly. I'm sure I do; the date of your own death isn't something that commonly slips your mind. Sometimes, I can't believe that ten years have passed since that night on the tower. I can't believe nine years have passed since the day I realised that I had, for the most part, been correct in my assumptions, and Lord Voldemort was defeated once and for all. I can't believe it has been five years since the wedding of Harry and young Miss Weasley. I suppose time must go more quickly when you know you have all the time in the world.

_Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories_

They all cried a lot in the first couple of years, I used to watch them and regret that I could do nothing. Miss Granger seemed to cry constantly throughout the time leading up to the final battle. Yet when it came to war, she fought just as bravely as anyone. She proved herself, I think. She proved that she has more than intellect – she also has courage and tremendous strength of character.  
_  
Remember the good times that we had?  
I let them slip away from us when things got bad_

I've got an awful lot of time on my hands just to sit and think now. It feels strange knowing that I'm not really needed for anything anymore. I don't watch them all the time, even though I can, because it does feel like an invasion of privacy to some extent. I do a lot of thinking about the good times and not the bad. I remember my own school days, my very early school days; the years before my regrets. I remember females and fire whiskey and fun as I grew older. I remember realising and accepting that the Ministry would be too dangerous a career for me, and settling into teaching.

_How clearly I first saw you smilin' in the sun  
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one_

I remember meeting a young school girl. I remember how the sun caught on her hair and I was convinced she'd done some sort of spell to make it look like that. I remember offering her a job three decades later. Sometime inbetween, I remember falling in love.

_  
I will remember you  
Will you remember me?_

Some days, I sit and watch her for twenty four hours, and they go by in a flash. She remembers me, but, selfish as I can be, not as much as I would like her to. The first year, she visited my tomb everyday. The second year, four or five times a week. Now, she goes once, on a Sunday afternoon, and lays a single flower.

_Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories_

She used to talk to me when she was alone at the tomb side but she stopped a few years ago. I miss that. She stopped crying around the same time; I remember, that first year, realising that in almost forty years of togetherness I had never seen her cry.

_I'm so tired but I can't sleep  
Standin' on the edge of something much too deep  
_

A decade has done little to cease those small reminders of the year leading to the final battle, and the repercussions of the fight itself. Miss Granger will not take her children camping, not ever, and her husband has never given his wife a locket to wear. Arthur and Molly are aware every single day that they have six children where seven should be, but they too only visit the graveyard on a Sunday now. Harry and his wife cannot go to sleep on an argument, in wake of the old fears that every night might be their last. Ginny hates the colour pink and will not dress in it; it reminds her of young Nymphadora too much. Harry works to promote acceptance of werewolves and mainstream use of the wolfsbane potion in memory of Remus. Mr Longbottom, although considerably more confident, still flinches when he hears mention of the crutiatus curse and never enters the Potions classroom if he can help it; he believe that the memory of Severus lingers there far too heavily. Mr Weasley has coped remarkably with the loss of his twin, brother and friend. He worked every hour God sent that third year when battle was done, and made the business an international corporation. However sometimes he still turns quickly as if he expects to see his other half alongside him.

_It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word  
We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard_

I am fully aware that for some, ten years is not enough. One hundred years will not be enough. Yet for others, I worry that it is too many. The majority of the Weasley children continue to live their lives, peacefully and happily, gathering together only once a year to remember the one they lost. The school – I try hard not to think of it as my school still but it is difficult – continues to run as normal. I hate the feeling that it does not belong to me anymore. Minerva mentioned me in every speech for the first few years, but when children of the war heroes began arriving at the school she stopped. I do not know why; she doesn't talk to my portraits either. Ten years later, she is still angry that I kept so much from her – while she will lay a flower once a week and used to talk to the tomb, she will not talk directly to me. My punishment for not talking to her as I should have in life; I can almost here her thinking, "Well the old fool can just bloody well wait". Occasionally, I send Severus down to have a word, but if he mentions my name she will not talk. So instead she tells him about the house cup and how his old house is still beaten by her young lions every year.

_But I will remember you  
Will you remember me?_

Harry still remembers his parents, of course he does, and he often wonders aloud if we have met each other in the next life. The answer, of course, is yes, and little has changed in death. Severus and James still despise each other with a vengeance, but here, where everyone chooses their own serenity, they never have to interact. Severus and Lily talk from time to time. I don't know how Harry would feel about that.

_Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories_

Of all the things I have been glad to watch, I am most glad that no one cries anymore.

_I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose  
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose_

I very seldom visit that world; I prefer to lurk out of sight. Once a week, I drop into my old office and remain there for one hour. I call her name over and over, and tell her what I have observed that week and my opinions on it. Sometimes I give her advice. Sometimes she even takes it! I always end with an apology for my secret keeping and she always responds with a little half smile. But she never talks while I am there. However, the instant I depart, she looks up at the frame and thanks me for coming. And tells me she loves me.

_Once there was darkness, deep and endless night  
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light_

The school pulled me from the darkness once, stopped me becoming everything I hate. Even though I sometimes wish that time hadn't moved quite so quickly, I am glad they are all managing to move on.

_And I will remember you  
Will you remember me? _

It's midnight; although how I know this I am not quite sure. You can sense time here rather than tell it. I decide to visit the school, more because no one else shall come to me till morning than for any other reason. James and Lily have known too many anniversaries to care by now. Severus will be near Lily, or possibly Harry on Lily's behalf. Remus shall be with his son, of course, he watches him at night. I visit the world to see if anyone as remembered my death – the beginning of the final war.

_  
Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories  
_

I slide into my portrait and if I wasn't already dead a heart attack surely would have killed me then, for she is sitting in the darkened office staring directly at me. "Took your time didn't you?" I smile; this is the first time she's spoken directly to me in ten years. "I'm still sorry. Ten years and I'm still sorry." "You better be waiting for me. We're going to have serious words, but now is not the time." "Will you make me wait another ten years?" I ask, in dread of the answer. "Perhaps," she tells me, but with that little half smile gracing her lips.

_And I will remember you  
Will you remember me?  
_

They all remember in their own ways today. Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Arthur and Molly, they are together as they should be. George and his brothers are raising a glass. The Ministry is holding a memorial; I could do without that. School continues on as normal. Minerva will perhaps make a speech. She won't mention me directly, I shouldn't think, but that's all right now. Its time for moving on after all.

_Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories  
Weep not for the memories_


End file.
